


If that were me inside

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Starvation, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:25:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 9,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9304049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: None of you would come and save me anyhow!





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> basically AU where Murderface got kidnapped at the funeral in Toki's place.

He was proud to see them making up. Even though it was really kinda gay. He never expected how it'd be interrupted by cracks in the ground, as he found himself trapped on one side, separated from his own band.

"Stay next to me," that man said. And as soon as he saw him reach into his pocket, Murderface remembered what kind of person Magnus really was, and shoved Toki out of the way. He himself was stabbed in the back, then once more in the stomach as Magnus grabbed him in an uncomfortable headlock. He whined, feeling heavy, incapable of freeing himself, and fell to the throes of unconsciousness. Which, considering just where he was going, he wished he'd stayed asleep.

-

He grunted, feeling pain running all up his spinal cord.

"William." A voice. Soft, worried, effeminate. "Are you feeling alright?"

Abigail. He sputtered, not even having the energy to lift himself up. "Say something. Please."

"Wuhhapp'n..."

"Oh, thank god." Her hand met his face, as though he were a little kitten, running down around his jaw. "You were out for so long I was afraid you wouldn't make it. Can you see clearly?" She paused. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three."

"Good. Can you sit up?"

He groaned, feeling twice as heavy as he usually did in his own skin. With excessive effort, he managed to prop himself up against a wall. "Okay. I don't know how long they'll be gone for, but I'll try and cover your wounds as best I can..."

The torn remains of his shirt laid on the floor, and Abigail twisted it up and threw it over his stomach.

"Thank..."

"It's gonna be okay." Murderface didn't register her words. "Everything's gonna be okay. I promise you."

He grunted, slumping back over and immediately going back to sleep.


	2. Keep the Party Going!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toki becomes frustrated with the lack of driving force.

"You guys."

Toki prodded Pickles on the shoulder, who was currently doing lines of coke off of a stripper's back. He looked back at Toki and grunted, eyes deeply bloodshot and hands shaking as powder fell from his mustache. 

"What?"

"Why's we just sittin's here?"

"We're partyin'."

"We can't be partyin's! We gots to go saves Moida--"

Nathan immediately put a finger over Toki's mouth, shushing him.

"No."

"Natens!" Toki pulled on his sleeve. "Him and Abigails could be--"

"I have no idea who you're talking about." He took a long swig of vodka.

"You knows what I ams talkings abouts!"

"Charles says he ams handlinks de business." Skwisgaar took a deep breath from a bong, spitting out endless air. "He should be back in, ah... less den a months or somethins. Fucking chill out and enjoys you-selfs for once."

"What if he gets hurt?!"

"Moidaface has a thick skins!"

"Yeah, him and Abigail might jest show up here all by 'emselves!" Pickles stole Nathan's vodka, promptly taking a sip before putting it back and feigning innocence. "Aw yeah, das' the good sheeit."

"You guys ams dildos." Toki crossed his arms, sitting down with a pout drawn across his face.

"Don't be like dat, man."

"Fucks off."

"Tokiiii..." Pickles threw his arm over Toki's shoulder. "C'mahn, he'll be fine! He's a trooper, he's seen shit that'd make most people wanna die."

"Eh, I guess..."

"Don't worry too much. If it really bugs you, have a drink."

"...I 'tinks I needs to go talks to Charles."


	3. We have our best men on it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toki and Charles have an important conversation.

With his fingers netted together, Charles stared at the numerous screens before him. Each one a different display. A display that was fucking empty. He pinched the bridge of his nose, staring into the endless supply of worthless, fruitless attempts. Somehow, the man with the silver face and his dirty goons managed to kidnap both Abigail and Murderface without leaving so much as an inkling as to where they could have gone. 

The door to his control room opened. He looked up, expecting a Klokateer in its opening to speak with him, only to find... Toki.

Again.

"Chaaaaarles!"

"What is it, Toki? I'm incredibly busy with--"

"Well you see, dat ams what I'm heres to askings abouts, you sees, uh..." He nervously tugged at his sleeve. "Ams he alrights?"

"I don't know."

"What you means you don't know?! You's been lookins for him for..." He mumbled for a second, counting on his fingers. "Two weeks!"

"Look, I'm doing my best. The fact of the matter is, Magnus left absolutely no trace of his departure or where he was going. So we really don't have any leads other than basic intuition, and I have men looking in every corner of the world."

"Let Tokis go."

"Excuse me?"

"Let Tokis go, he can finds Moidaface easy! I knows Moidaface betters dan he knows himselfs!"

"No. Absolutely not."

"What you means 'no'?!"

"No, you could get captured too, that means three people we need to rescue, three people we need to explain the whereabouts of, and most importantly, three people who could end up dead. The answer is no, Toki."

"But I misses 'im."

"I know you do, Toki."

"Amn'ts dere anythin's we can does?"

"Well for now, we--"

The door opened again. This time it was a Klokateer.

"Sire." He ran over, stepping past Toki. "We examined the corpse as you requested, and found a drive hidden within his cadaver. Shall we play it on the main computer console?"

"Yes. Immediately."


	4. Not a terrible person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn't mean it.

"It's been awhile."

Murderface was too tired to argue with Magnus, instead settling to scowl at him with as much animosity as he could muster within his face. He was given a light slap across the face, only mumbling obscenities in response.

"Fuck off."

"That's no way to greet an old friend."

"I hate you."

"Come on. I heard about your attempted suicide way back when, I know you miss me."

"Shut up! Schtupid asschhole..."

His mind was still a bit fuzzy, as he'd lost a lot of blood from what happened to him. But he had enough energy in him to refuse any advance. Abigail was gone from the room. He had no idea what was going on. Magnus grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look into the dim, greenish lamp. He scowled even more. His scalp hurt and he was tired. Magnus' knee met his chest at what felt like light speed, and he toppled over onto his side.

"You're always like that. So cruel." He got down, staring into his eyes. "It's partly your fault I got kicked out of the band, you know. After all I did for you."

"You were a creep and I hate you."

"I housed you. I loved you. Even though nobody else would. Even though you were so rotten."

"...Fuck off!"

A kick to the side silenced him. 

"You're crying already."

"Fuck off! I hate you!"

"Whatever. I'm really here to stitch that wound shut." He dropped to his knees, pulling out a needle and thread from his pocket. It stung, though it could've been worse. The thread pulled through his flesh, sealing the open wound on his belly. Then, without a word, Magnus dumped vodka over it. Murderface howled, curling in on himself and falling back onto his side. "Fucking calm down, you big baby, do you want your stabs to get infected?!"

"You're the one who schtabbed me!"

"Right. Because I need you to lure Dethklok here. And I'll finally get what I want."

"Schtop it! Go away!"

"Roll over, I need to get your back."

He sighed, feeling the familiar sting of the sutures as he rolled on his belly, and then another painful burning. He twisted away, slapping his hands on the ground. "There. That wasn't so bad now, was it? Good boy."

"I hate you."

"Your vocabulary still isn't too varied, huh." The bottle now empty, he threw it over his captive's chest, a resounding 'thump' causing a smile to grow on his face. "You really never change."

"When Dethklok getsch here, you're fucked."

"Pfft. I'd be surprised if they even showed up for you."


	5. We'll most likely die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks later. Nothing.

It was always dark down there. ("The Depths", Magnus referred to it as.) It'd been two weeks. (Two stupid weeks.) And he hadn't heard anything. (Other than a few Klokateers showing up and kicking the bucket.) Nothing. 

"I don't think they're comin' for usch."

"William, don't say that." Abigail was such a bitch, always calling him by his first name like his stupid grandma. "They're gonna come save us and you know it. The band can't function without their favorite bassist."

"I ain't nobody'sch favorite basschischt." 

"Of course you are." She ran her hand through his hair, curling her fingers in its frizzy, matted mass. His stomach grumbled, and he slapped a hand over it. 

"I think I'm schtarvin'."

"...Food has been... minimal." She sighed. "I promise we'll get out of here. I swear to you."

She coaxed his head onto her lap, allowing him to relax quietly. Once again her fingers found their way within his locks, curly and tangled, brushing the strands apart. His eyes fell half-lidded. She was still warm after all this time. 

"I wanna go home."

"I know." She let out a heavy sigh. "...And I know you haven't been able to sleep."

"Nnh."

He whined, burying his face into his hands. She placed her own hand along his shoulder, rubbing his back.

"I can help you." She cleared her throat. "It's been awhile since I sang, but..."

Her voice was nice. Soft. Gentle. He felt heavy, and he was hurting a whole damn lot. His stomach hurt and his bruises were still letting out dull pulses of pain beneath his skin. His eyelids fluttered. They closed.


	6. Some time ago...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream, or a memory?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Murderface's eating disorders.

"Here's to our first album." Pickles held up his bottle. "Wit' our new bandmate, Toki Wartooth."

Clink!

Murderface wasn't a fan of straight alcohol. He drank it for the purpose of getting drunk, really. It was bitter, and kind of depressing. The flavor of adulthood. He leaned back against the wall, already feeling woozy from the liquor. He swayed back and forth, head feeling heavy and belly on fire.

"Moidaface, don't think you should drinks no mores."

Toki leaned over, allowing Murderface to press his cheek against his shoulder. He groaned, having not eaten for a full day. Which meant the alcohol hit him twice as hard. "You gonna be okays? You ain'ts soundin's too goods." Toki pulled a blanket off the couch, wrapping it around Murderface's shoulders. He felt vulnerable. Pathetic. "Feelin' alrights? Needs a glass of waters? Needs me to gets you to beds?"

"Schtop." He whined, stomach turning violently and cheeks covered in sweat. "Pleasch don'hurt me."

"I would nevers!"

"You're gonna." His mouth felt dry. 

"You ams importants to me."

"You're gonna!" He was shaking and he was crying. (No, Mags, I didn't mean it) He was trembling like an earthquake, overwhelmed by emotion. (Don't be mad at me I'll be good) His chest felt tight, he cried and cried. Everyone was looking.

Nathan was the first to speak up.

"You okay, Murderface?"

"I 'tinks he needs sleeps."

"No!" He was yelling. Screaming. "No, I don't! Don't tell me what to do anymore!"

Pickles sighed, holding his arms out.

"C'mahn. C'mere." It was familiar. It was good. Murderface sprung from the blankets, latching onto Pickles, whose arms curved around to his back. "Dere dere. 's alright. We're here. We're all here, and yer fine. Nobody's gonna hurt you."

"Ja, Pickle." Skwisgaar grinned. "You really ams goods at bein's the dads."

"Shsh. Alright, pal, I think you've had a little too much to drink. And-- oh... He's asleep."


	7. We want answers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More time passes.

"Where ams he?!"

Toki was livid. Charles had no answers to give him. He was slamming his hands onto the table, tears welling in his eyes, and his own manager was helpless to do anything but watch. "It's been a long times! Where ams he?! I needs to know!"

"Toki." Nathan grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "They already said they're looking for him. We have no idea where he is, okay?!"

"Oh, fucks you! Fucks you, Natens! You know what I 'tinks? I 'tinks you ams just not tryin's!"

"Toki! For fuck's sake! He'll be fine!"

"You just sayin's dat 'cause you don't wanna go finds 'im!"

"We don't even need him!"

Silence.

"...Fucks you, Natens!"

"Well I didn't really mean it like--"

"No! Fucks you! You just amn'ts gettin's him back 'cause you hates him! He ams a member of dis bands too!"

"I never said I hate him, alright? I said the band can function without him for a little while."

"You wouldn't says dat about nobodies else..."

"Well, I mean..."

Another pause. Skwisgaar interjected.

"He ams just de bass players."

"He could be in serious troubles, and we's just sittin's here!" Toki kicked his chair over. "I wants no parts in dis willful not-doing-'tings-ness! I'm gettin's outta heres, and you can't stops me!" And off he went to his room. Most likely to pack. (The fuck, this wasn't a vacation, it was a rescue mission!)

"...Should we stops him?"

"He'll prahbably be back later."


	8. Before you go, I need your attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toki sets off.

Nathan left his room at 3 in the morning, wanting another drink. They weren't recording anything which meant he could fuck up his sleep schedule and get as drunk as he could possibly want. And he totally fucking loved getting drunk at ungodly hours of the night. However, he paused, seeing a figure in the living room. And since two-thirds of their band had long hair, it was pretty hard trying to figure out who the silhouette was.

"...Hello?"

"Oh. Natens."

"Toki. Fuck're you doing?"

"I told you alreadies. I'm goin's to go finds Moidaface myself."

"Oh. Uh..." He blinked. Well, Pickles did say he'd probably come back.

"Why, you wants to come wit's me?"

"I never said that. It's fucking cold outside." Nathan, as well, was pretty convinced Toki wouldn't be out for long. At the latest, he'd be back within a day. Like hell he was going to get involved in a daylong trip into the freezing-ass cold.

"Fucking typicals."

"Yeah, whatever." Nathan grunted, grabbing a half-finished bottle of bourbon off the table before shuffling away. "Make sure your phone is charged."

"Alrights, pals!"


	9. But that was yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's gone.

"Where's Toki."

It was a question nobody was prepared to answer, especially with it coming so flatly from Charles' mouth. Pickles shrugged, taking a drink from a bottle of patron silver. "This is not a good time to be indifferent. Where is he."

"I said I don't fuckin' know, Charles, jeez."

"Skwisgaar."

"Nones a' my business."

"Nathan."

"Uh..." Nathan trailed off, staring into a bag of potato chips. "Uhm... Lemme think, where's Toki..."

"You know something, don't you."

"Gee, Charles, I'm not, uh... I'm not sure about that."

"Don't 'gee' me, Nathan."

"I mean, I saw him leave last night, but y'know, he'll probably be back, so..."

"So you let him out."

"Uh..."

"You let him leave. To go find Murderface. Under the assumption that he'll probably come back." He paused. "The very... flimsy assumption, considering their relationship with one another... and, for that matter, how Toki would do the same for any of you."

"Yeah, but he's, y'know..."

"He ams Moiderface." Skwisgaar cut in. "De biggest sacks of shits in de bands. Toki ams smarts enough to comes around."

"And, y'know, if Toki does find him, then our job is done and shit, right?"

"You have put him in serious danger. Nathan, why the hell didn't you stop him?"

"I didn't think it'd be a problem. I told him to bring his phone and everyth--"

"Ugh." Charles grunted, pinching his nose. "One of them could die at this rate. We may very well have to send you three out to find them."


	10. You must go in alone and save your brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The art of rescue.

He'd never really done anything like this before. At best, Toki had watched a few James Bond movies and other stuff along those lines while living in America. But he did have his wits about him, as well as a few supplies, including big shiny rocks to throw at his enemies. (It was a great form of ammunition when on the go.)

How he found the place was a bit complicated. On his way through town, he ran into Dr. Rockso, who said he heard through word of mouth that a few of the revengencers had been staying in the Depths of Humanity bar and music venue. So, of course, he went over there, and was promptly assaulted by the ghost of his father. How he got there was a mystery, but regardless, Toki fended him off for the sake of his dearly beloved bandmate. He was terrified, but not enough to be held back.

Tearing down a poster for apartments for rent, he immediately recognized it being where the band used to live. In fact, he distinctly remembered they lived on the second story, where Murderface had allegedly thrown himself from the window and came out with only broken legs.

Was he being led there? Regardless, he immediately headed off to that building and went around the back, crawling up the back window to apartment 2B. (Pickles occasionally referred to it almost affectionately as the 'suicide window'.) It wasn't very far up, and the window wasn't sealed shut. He managed to pry it open with his fingernails and wiggle himself inside, landing on his belly in a puddle of... something.

It was red. Blood. It smelled. Blood puke?

The lights were off. Immediately Toki reached for a light source, finding a cord attached to a lamp. It was a low light, kind of pale green. 

"Moidaface?"

He shuffled around, finally seeing a figure huddled up in the corner. And frankly, if it weren't for his hair, Toki would never have recognized him. He remembered Murderface as thick, most prominently, however, that trait of his was almost completely gone. Eyes baggy, and entire body covered in bruises. His face was a myriad of blacks and blues, covered in blood and spit. His torso was decorated liberally with crude stab wounds, which were hastily stitched shut. Carved across his skinny back was the word 'PIG'. His eyes were bloodshot and his mouth wouldn't even hold itself closed.

"Moidaface!"

"...Hnnh..." 

"Moidaface, it's ams me. Tokis. Where ams Abigails, I'm bustin's you outta heres!"

"To..." He smacked his lips, mouth dry. "...Look- look behind you--" He was hit. Toki stared at Murderface, who fell limp, blood seeping from his forehead. He was hit with one of Toki's big shiny rocks... Toki panicked, grabbing hold of him. However, aim and reflex were both within Magnus' talents, and he too was down.


	11. I live for you, and I'll die for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loving is hard.

"You got some nerve showin' up here."

Toki had never been so defiant in the face of another person. Especially someone so imposing, so much older than him. But he would hold his ground, even if his head was bleeding and he felt kind of woozy and fucked up. 

Murderface remained unconscious, his body piled up in a heap on the floor. Magnus brought Abigail in-tow, and Toki didn't dare ask what she was up to. (Frankly, he didn't want to know.) Her expression was entirely blank, as the once fiery and hard-headed producer was reduced to futzing with her hair in a corner. "Thinking you can just waltz in like that, by yourself? You're the one who replaced me, you know."

He scoffed.

"I love how the rest of the band just didn't show up. What, do they not give a shit about either of your wellbeing? Fucking pathetic."

"Fuck offs."

"Man, you know, you two really are similar sometimes. He was just the same way."

"Leaves him alones."

"I'm not sure if you know how long we've known each other. How far back me and him go..." Toki's brows screwed together as Magnus spoke. He reached into his pocket. "This is a stun gun, by the way. A taser. Whatever you wanna call it."

The electricity shone blue in the dim room, clicking and flickering as the sparks burst from its lively waves. The clattering electricity lowered down, before prodding into Murderface's side. His body spasmed, and his voice turned into a lilting scream. The taser pulled away as soon as Murderface showed signs of consciousness, urine pooling between his legs and muscles twitching beneath his tightly-drawn flesh.

"Ugh. Gross. You know who has to clean this shit, right, William?"

"Y-you do." He grunted, pulling himself against the wall, allowing him to weakly slump over with its support. 

"You'd ought to apologize. Pretending to be decent to lure this guy here. Clearly everyone else can see through your bullshit."

"Schorry." His voice was shot, wheezy and scratchy. "I'm schorry."

"Apologies won't fix this one. Right, Toki?" Toki was silent, not wanting to answer him. "Ah, see, he nodded." Perhaps that was a mistake. "He knows I'm always right. You drew him in. Bad boy." His laughter was soft, but it pierced Murderface's ears and made him wish he was deaf. The kiss Magnus left on his forehead was like hundreds of knives in his skull, as he said to him in a smooth, dulcet tone, "See you tomorrow, baby."

Tears welled up from his heart and into his eyes, gushing out as though they were being forced through.

"I'm schorry."

"Moidaface, you didn't--"

"I'm schorry. I'm schorry, I'm schorry, I'm schorry, I'm--" He grunted, tasting vomit on his lips. It only consisted of water, as he hardly ate anything. His words came out even more slurred. "Ibhthorry... Ibhthorry, Idin't mheen ithh..."

He curled up. And, as rare as it was, Toki had no words to make it better this time.


	12. Cocaine!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst kind of assistance.

"I remember da Depths a' Humanity, Nate'n."

"Was the first Dethk-k-klok concert I heard of..." The doctor was in, and by 'doctor', regrettably, they meant Dr. Rockso. "Fuckin' assholes started hangin' around there like they owned the fuckin' place. I'm almost certain that's where T-T-Toki and the fat fuck are."

"Yeah. We played dere way back when."

"He fuckin' went there and I ain't seen no more of him. You'd better fucking get Toki back, you fat fuck, or I'll fucking kill you where you stand."

Nathan backed away from the coke-addicted clown before they could get anywhere close to touching one another. God knew what kind of diseases he was carrying. Knowing how often Rockso woke up in alleyways, Nathan assumed a mere inch of his body was a hotbed of bacterial infection.

"Don't call me fat."

"You k-k-fuckin' let him leave. I know you c-could'a stopped him."

"Whatever. Why the fuck do you care?"

"He's like a motherfucking son to me." Rockso's hands were shaking as he tugged at his sleeve. "The c-c-closest I'll ever get to having one, that's for sure. And I ain't gonna lose 'im because some chicken-shit emo boy can't keep his ass inside when I ain't around!"

"I ain't emo."

"Whatever! I told you what you need to know, right? Depths of Humanity. Metal bar, smells like piss all the fuckin' time."

"...Somehow you went this whole time without saying you do cocaine."

"Ain't there more important shit to worry about, asshole?!"

"Yeah, just... seeing you get serious is weird."


	13. The Deth lights are within you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The light of the doomstar looms above the mortal plane.

"There's a fuckin' red-ass star hangin' around up in the sky."

"That is the Doomstar."

"Anyone tell you you look like motherfuckin' Sandy C-c-clause?"

"I've heard it once before."

Nathan grunted, already sweating through his goddamn clothes. Exercising sucked and he hated it, but Charles insisted they needed the various training. And honestly, Skwisgaar was much worse-off than him, anyway. He'd passed out... at least once from the exhaustion. Pickles had no fucking excuse for being as good at athletic stuff as he was.

"You guys doing alright."

"Yeah, Charles, I'm totally not fucking dying out here."

"I'm sorry, it's just... this is really important. To me. To everyone, uh, in the world, probably."

"I know, god. I just don't overwork myself this much. My ribs are killing me."

"When this is all over, I swear things will settle down." Charles paused. "You do... miss him, right? You're not just doing this out of obligation?"

"Who, Toki?"

"Murderface, I meant."

"That's a weird fucking question to ask."

"I was just curious. With his rather small fanbase, low contributions, and... generally being hard to work with, I just always figured you'd want to fire him."

"Fire?"

"You always told me it was Magnus who convinced you to let him into this band in the first place."

"I mean, are you seriously thinking about it? I guess I never realized I could kick him out, I dunno."

"I suppose it's a weird time to ask that kind of question. I certainly think he's a great bassist, though with a lot of emotional baggage, and a lot of the time... not actually trying." His arms crossed together as the topic uncomfortably continued to live. "Skwisgaar, actually. From, uh, very early on... said he didn't like working with him."

"I mean, sure, Skwisgaar has a low tolerance for bullshit."

"So he mentioned it. To me. When uh... when Murderface went missing. And I just wanted your input."

"I guess I don't really know."

"Of course I'd also need consultation from Pickles, but if the three of you agree, it's a majority vote and I'll just hire a new bass player once he's been rescued. But think about it. Don't forget to, you know, uh... talk to everyone else. About that."

"You're not fuckin' with me, right?"

"Of course not."

Nathan wasn't sure how much he believed that, but... It was a worthy topic of conversation, he supposed.

"Alright then."

"Alright. Now get back to your training. We still have to save him."


	14. And if they fail, we could lose everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silence and solitude.

"He amn'ts movin's."

"I know."

"He ams okays?"

"I don't know."

"Moidaface!"

No reply.

At best, his lumped-up figure shuddered in response. Toki wanted to touch him. Wanted to caress and console him, to hold him, to just be close and feel whatever warmth remained in his body. But he worried he might make things even worse. He didn't want to frighten him, or make him feel bad, or anything like that. But damn, he'd never seen the poor guy so fucked-up before, all while completely sober, to boot. Toki whined, tentatively netting his fingers together. "You okays...?"

All he heard was a wheeze, or maybe a sob. 

"I'm sorry, Toki." 

"Don't bes dats way, dere's gots to be some kinds of escapes."

"...The man with the silver face boarded the windows shut after you got in..." She sighed. "I'd figured you had noticed by now, he just did it while you were unconscious"

"...Why didn'ts you leaves before?"

"How the hell do you expect me to get him out of here down two stories, by myself, climbing down the side of a building, and come out alive?"

"Oh..." He sighed. "I guess dat ams a good points."

"...Is Dethklok coming?"

Another uncomfortable bout of quiet. "They are, right?"

"I, uh..." Toki swallowed. What could he say? "Dey... dey ams, uh... Dey..." He lowered his head, fingers tightening together. "Dey didn'ts really wants to, but Charles is workin's on it, so I--"

"I knew it."

The voice rang from the corner. A nervous 'I told you so', spoken by Murderface himself. He repeated it. This time, quieter. More solemn. "I knew it." There was little Toki or Abigail could say to console him, because for once he was right. None of them wanted to come save him. "They'll come back for you guysch."

Abigail sighed.

"Remind me to kick Nathan's ass next time I see him."

It wasn't a comforting promise, but it was there.


	15. There ain't no all-access passes that'll help me to break through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a hard decision to make.

It was weird, hearing Charles allude to the idea that they could easily kick Murderface out of the band. Maybe because he totally forgot that was possible. Maybe because he'd never heard Charles... really say anything like that. (Did he dislike Murderface or something?)

The only thing weirder than Charles bringing it up, was Nathan attempting to do so. He didn't like saying it for some reason.

"Kick Murderface out? Nah, he's, uh..." Pickles shrugged. "Y'know. He's been here forever."

"Well, yeah, I guess. I dunno, Charles said Skwisgaar wanted to."

"Pfft. Skwisgaar! You wanna get rid a' Murderface?"

"I didn'ts says nothin's like dats." Skwisgaar scowled, obnoxiously plucking at the strings of his unplugged Gibson. "...I means, I guess I wouldn'ts bes against it. He ams fucking obnoxious somestimes. Gettin's kidnaps, gettin's Tokis wraps ups in dis. Only Moidaface could, I tells you."

"I mean, I guess dere's some truth in dat. But like... what about that fuckin', uh... prophecy, or whatever? Do we need to like, do dat first?"

"Does we really needs 'em? Whats he does but fuckings brings us downs, hah? He can't plays, he ams an assholes, and he ruins everythin's."

"Well gee, I didn't know you felt so strongly about dis."

"We argues a lots. Ain'ts my faults he can'ts plays goods enoughs to be on de records."

"I mean, Nate'n. Would you miss him?"

Nathan shrugged.

"I guess I never really thought about it. I mean, I kinda let him in 'cause... y'know, Magnus wanted me to."

"Oh, yeah, I remember."

"Yeah, yeah. Skwisgaar, this is like, before your time or whatever, but I wanted Magnus to play guitar, and he was like... Y'know, let the gremlin play bass. And I mean, I just kind of allowed it."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, so like... Technically he wasn't even my idea..."

The door to the common room flew open, and a voice was heard.

"How dare you say these things about your brother." A scoff. "You heartless bastards!"

Nathan groaned. Dear god, this guy.


	16. If I had my brother alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edgar and Skwisgaar argue.

"Oh hi, uh... Edward."

"That's Edgar." Edgar quirked a brow, teeth clenched together in their crooked glory. "You should all be absolutely ashamed of yourselves for this callousness. Each and every one of you. Especially Skwisgaar. Disgusting."

"Fucks off, why's I gon's to takes advice from some random fuck-holes who dones tries to kills me."

"Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting." Edgar repeated to himself, wheeling forward. "He is your family. He is one of you. He is as much a part of you as any other member of this band."

"He ain'ts no parts of me."

"Yes, he is."

"De fucks do you knows, fat assholes?"

"How would your life feel without him?"

"Betters."

"Without his presence. Without his annoyances, and his grievances."

"Exactlies."

Nathan had never seen someone projectile-spit as hard as Edgar did into Skwisgaar's forehead. "...Eugh." 

"Those are grievances one cannot live without. You think any person in this room is perfection?" His lip jutted out. He was very clearly biting back the will to scream at Skwisgaar until his eardrums tore. "If it weren't for your musical prowess, they may just as easily have thought of getting rid of you."

"Ja, but I am goods at de--"

"And he looks up to you. Even if he won't say so. And I'm certain he's trying his damnest, but what does it even matter to you? If he's such a bother. A bother who has faith in you, a bother who looks at you like you're a god whenever you turn your filthy back on him! Disgusting!"

"Edgar--"

"Do you understand how much more a brother means to you than just a bandmate? You may believe you'd be missing little without him, but it's like chopping off a finger. Surely, there were days where I wished Eric and I didn't live together, but I didn't know what was truly gone until I lost him and then I realized just how wrong I was! And if he were here, right now, we could probably just save William ourselves!"

"But we ams goings to saves him, we just--"

"You should be ashamed!" He slammed his fist onto the arm of his wheelchair. "You wouldn't be in the same place that you are now without him! He is your brother! A part of your dysfunctional family, and if you leave him now, you will regret it... If you let him go..."

He trailed off. Skwisgaar was silent.

"You 'tinks he ams worth dat much?"

"If that were you in there, he would save you." His expression was soft. "Isn't that enough?"

"I--" Skwisgaar looked to the side, hearing weird whimpering sounds. Of course, Pickles was fucking crying. Maybe he was drunk? "Pickle, de fucks?"

"Dat was da most emotional thing I ever heeeeaaaard..."

"What about Natens apolgosacking to you?"

"Murderface is a pal! We can't abandon 'im, he's like one'a my kids!"

Skwisgaar and Nathan exchanged glances, both looking confused.

"...Whatever you says."

"Find him. And hold onto him for all that he's worth." Edgar sounded like he was choking. "Don't make the same mistake I did."


	17. Oh. Throw him in the garbage...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks kind of dead.

He felt like he was dying. Which made sense, really. He had been there for a few months, only ate once a week, and was beaten whenever his captors saw fit. Most of them were sadists who got off on that shit, after all. Half the conversation he made consisted of being insulted, the other half just Toki pretending to be nice. (He was pretending. He had to be.) And when he was alone, he didn't move. He didn't want to talk to anybody. He just wanted silence. 

"Get up."

The masked assassin, who probably had a name like 'Stephen', would always grab him by the hair whenever he wanted something. Honestly, that guy had such big hands he wondered why he didn't just crush his skull and kill him already.

"Food."

He spoke in few words, that guy did. Which was fine with Murderface, really. 

"Hey, don't grabs his hairs like dats."

Ugh, but Toki. Murderface wrinkled his nose. Goddamn Toki. Luckily, the masked guy completely ignored him. His fingers all tight in the curls of his matted hair. ("Just the way he likes it", Magnus remarked at some point. How long ago, though, he had no idea.)

"Are you going to eat."

"I'm schtarving myschelf to death."

If the guy had eyes, he'd probably still look completely stoic. Without using his words he just knelt down, peeling a tin can open. (It smelled like fish, so it was either canned tuna or fucking cat food, oh joy.) "I schaid I don't want it."

"...We're doing this, aren't we." He shoved the open end in Murderface's mouth. Probably canned tuna. It was gross and wet and he felt sick, but he finished it off. Or else the big guy would probably break his legs. Though it sure as hell didn't go down easy, as the fucking tuna fluid spewed from his nose. "You don't die until I say you do." Murderface grunted in response, lumping himself back up in a corner like a pile of dirty laundry on his bedroom floor.

Gross.

"There." And off he went. Toki, at least, didn't seem to mind the quality of the food very much.

"Moidaface, you's been stucks here awhiles. Wheres you use the bathrooms?"

"Metal bucket, usually." He grunts. "Y'know, whenever anyone comesch around."

"...I likes to hears you talks to me."

"Whatever."

"No, reallies!"

"Juscht schtop." Murderface sighed, pressing his forehead against the wall. "Magnusch wasch right. Again." He hated when that guy was right. And speaking of him, he came in through the door. Murderface despised everything about him.

"William." Especially the fact that he always used his first name. "How about you and I go down to the common room for a smoke or two?"

"You're weirdly fucking hoschpitable conschidering you kidnapped me."

"I'll take that as a yes. Get up." He had trouble actually getting to his feet, but with a bit of assistance, managed to get to the door. "Alright. We'll be back in a few, don't go anywhere. I'm locking the door." And he did just that, taking Murderface with him, alone.


	18. You're the only one we welcome here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nice place you've got here.

Clearly this building had been abandoned for a long-ass time. It still looked like shit, but goddamn, they had a bar. It was like some kind of weird secret club. Honestly, if Magnus wasn't involved, Murderface would totally want in on something like this. The two sat down in front of the bar table, the lobby overcrowded, and Murderface couldn't help but feel awkwardly exposed with no shirt on. He felt as though he should've been used to that kind of thing.

"Want anything? It's all free."

Of course he assumed Magnus would tamper with his drink or something. It'd be fucking stupid of him, and yet his dry mouth yearned for the bitter taste of vodka on his lips.

"If I can watch the bartender."

"You think I'm gonna spike it?" He laughed. A soft, genuine laugh. It'd been so damn long since he'd heard Magnus laugh like that. "I guess I can't say I blame you. I've had to be one hell of a dick recently. But I swear on my life, I have no weird drugs in my pockets." Murderface rose an eyebrow, but leaned over the table, shouting to the bar lady for a big glass of vodka and watching intently as she poured it and handed it to him. By god, he'd never been so happy to see a drink.

He took a sip, immediately letting out a little whine. It was so fucking good. He hadn't drank anything but water and his own piss in such a long time that he forgot. His fingers trembled around the cup, heart thumping and tears welling in his eyes.

"Oh, mama."

"Is it good? For fuck's sake, you spilled all over your face. Turn this way."

"Huh? Oh, uh, I got it--"

"I said turn this way."

He did as he was told. Magnus gently dabbed the vodka off of his face, neck and chest. "You're still like a fucking five-year-old sometimes. No wonder nobody except that Toki guy actually came after you, huh."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Hey, I got you booze. Don't be like that."

"You schtabbed 'n kidnapped me."

"I know I did. But hey, how else would I get you to come here with me?"

"...What?"

"Come on, dumbass, I missed you." He lightly punched Murderface in the shoulder. "My boss says he wants to destroy Dethklok and all that, but I wanted you to be the exception. You deserve to be away from those shitheads. They're completely awful to you."

"I mean..." Murderface looked down. "I guessch that'sch true."

"Well I promise you a seat at the bar any night. See, I'm not so bad."

He felt his head pressed to Magnus' chest, and suddenly felt ten years younger, maybe even twenty. It was warm and soft and so very paternal. Almost made him regret ever letting go of the guy in the first place...

"Besides, they'll never come back for you anyway."

Murderface blinked, attempting to draw his head away, but Magnus held him close.

"What're you--"

"Isn't it obvious? They're fucking callous, uncaring pigs. And they're gonna do to you the same thing they made you do to me." He pulled Murderface away, holding him at arm's length. "Such a fucked up, manipulated person you are. They used you." He sighed. "My poor baby."

"Poor ba..." Murderface looked at himself. Real close. "But then why would Toki...?"

"I guess he didn't want to face the consequences." His fingers lined Murderface's jaw, scratching just below his chin. "I should've told you earlier. I was still angry, and I took it out on you." He had such long fingers, running through the tight curls of Murderface's hair. "That was shitty of me."

"I..." Murderface swallowed, glass now empty. "I-isch there any food at thisch plasche?"

"Of course."

He could get used to this.


	19. Oh no, we don't know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skwisgaar and Nathan remain undecided.

"De fucks you 'tinks gets into Pickle?"

"Shit, man, I dunno. I guess he really just doesn't like getting yelled at by fatasses in wheelchairs."

"Ja, you gots dat rights."

"How'd the subject of throwing Murderface out come up, anyway? Like, did Charles ask you or something?"

"I just says so. I don't likes 'im nones." He crossed his arms. "Can't plays, fuckin's annoyin's... likes a stupid little brudders... Not really, though. Fucks dat 'brudders' shits. Whose brudder ams he? He gots like, what, sixtwenties siblings? And even dey doesn't wants to be acksosciated wit' him."

"He was like, super gay for you back in the day."

"He was gays for you toos, stupids."

Skwisgaar's expression was oddly sullen. Though, Nathan sure as hell never read him as an ecstatic person.

"You seem fucking depressed." Nathan grinned. "Oh, I get it. You miss Toki, don't you?"

"Huh? Oh, uh... ja." Skwisgaar, still holding his guitar, continued to pluck the strings on it aimlessly. "Amn'ts de sames wit'-outs hims."

"...That's so gay."

"Ja." He grunted. "I guess it ams."


	20. You were doin' so well.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback.

Seeing Murderface at his apartment door wasn't really a sight Skwisgaar wanted to deal with, even back then. It was nice to see a grin plastered on the kid's face, but thinking about their meet-up at the diner where he... accidentally said Magnus LIKED him...

"You were right!" His fingers were shaking. "He schaysch he... he wantsch to..."

"Woah, woah, woah, Moidaface. I don't 'tinks dis ams a good ideas."

"Why not?! He'sch been takin' care of me for a year now!" He wrung his fingers. "...I'm finally not alone anymore..."

"Moidaface, please. He ams like, twice you's age or some'tins."

"It doeschn't matter! Shut up, can't you at leascht be happy for me?!" He crossed his arms. "You're juscht jealousch becausche I'm not hopelesschly fawning over your assch anymore! I've got schtandardsch now! I need schomeone who'sch mature enough to get me!"

"Williams!" Skwisgaar was shouting into the hall now. "Ams you fuckin's stupids?!"

"Schee, that'sch why." He scowled. "That'sch why we wouldn't work out, Schkwischgaar. You're juscht demeaning me. Jealouschy!"

"I amn'ts jealous, I don't gives a fucks about you!"

"Then it shouldn't be a problem!"

"Fines!"

"Fine!"

He stormed off. Skwisgaar was used to making mistakes, but man, did this just come back to bite him.


	21. The Depths of Humanity!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus and Murderface go for a walk.

"Man, that Toki, huh?" Murderface grinned, clutching one of Magnus' hands in two of his own. "Keepsch aschkin' me if I'm doin' okay. I think he can tell, he ain't fuckin' blind!"

"Maybe he is and he just didn't tell you. He's secret-blind."

"Pfft! Fucking Chrischt, schecret-blind!"

They walked in front of a flat, old-looking building. The neon lights on the front shone brightly, reading, 'Depths of Humanity'. "Thisch plasche looksch like a fucking dump. Why the hell are you takin' me here?" A comical smile crossed his face. "Schlummin' it for the day?"

"I have buddies who frequent here. Really wanted to meet you."

Murderface scoffed.

"Nobody wantsch to meet me."

"Nonsense. You're just surrounded by unappreciative cunts." He walked through the big double-doors. Immediately all eyes were on the two men. "I told you I'd bring him, didn't I? Here he is! William Murderface!"

"Oh my god." Another tall guy walked up. "Holy shit, I'm like, your biggest fan!" He grabbed Murderface's hand, his spiky bracelet digging into his arm. "Ah, shit, sorry." Murderface's expression twisted.

"Ischh fine."

"Jeez, your arms are covered in scars. You doin' okay?" He held the bassist's thick face. "Those assholes back at Dethklok HQ abusing your ass?"

"I, uh..." He swallowed. "I mean, n-not really."

"Oh fuck, you look so good shirtless! Have you lost weight?!" Christ, there were hands all over him. His cheeks went red, smile returning to his face, albeit a sheepish one. "You're a fucking sexy beast! Ah shit, I'd kill to get into that!"

"Hey, I-I ain't gay!"

"Alright, alright. If you ever change your mind, I'm around."

"We got girls too." Magnus remarked. "Lining up to fuck your brains out, probably. All the food and booze you could possibly want... You're gonna love it."

"Shit, Magnusch." His fingers trembled. "Keep puttin' thisch schtuff out and I might never wanna leave."

"That's the idea."

"...Wuh?"

"Let's face it. William. Those guys are assholes over at Dethklok, right? None of 'em appreciate you or care about you. Am I right?"

"...I-I think..." He looked down. "Uh... I mean, I'm- I'm the world'sch greatescht bassch player, I'm--"

"And now you can be surrounded by people who appreciate you for who you are." Magnus cupped his cheek, feeling Murderface nuzzle against it. "What do you say?"

"I... I don't know..." He swallowed. "I mean..."

"You want a kiss?"

Murderface's heart clenched tight within his chest. Holy fuck, it used to feel so good when Magnus would kiss him! And now he was even older and more experienced... Shit, he did want one! What the hell did Dethklok know?! He was manipulated double-time!

"Give it to me."

"Alright. You're mine, Willy."

"All yoursch."

Damn, did he still kiss good.


	22. Drinkin' beer, drinkin' wine, and champagne, so divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But where could he be?

"Where the fuck is the Depths a' Humanity anyway? Somewhere in Florida, right?"

"Yeah." Nathan paused. "'cause, uh, we still... lived there."

"Dr. Rockso said 'e knows where it is, right?"

"Ugh. I really, really do not want to get in a car with that guy."

"I mean, you wanna save 'em, right?"

"I'm not used to making sacrifices, okay? I have enough money to pay my way out of those."

"Good point." Pickles looked around. "Hey, where's Skwisgaar?"

"Oh, uh, he stayed back in the kitchen. Said he wanted a drink or something." Nathan rolled his eyes. "Is it just me or is he being fucking weird? Like, even more emotionally constipated than usual? Not that I, uh, give a shit. Or anything."

"Meh. Maybe he's jest nervous. We ain't never done nuthin' like this before."

"I mean just like, generally weird."

"Is this about kickin' Murderface out again? I told you, I'm not doin' it. Jest give it up already."

"I mean, I dunno, Charles said he's the one who suggested it. You think they have some business secrets or somethin'?"

"Skwisgaar and Murderface? Uh... Maybe they did have sex after all."

"...Pssht." Nathan pushed out of his chair. "I'm gonna go find him, he's taking fucking forever and we have shit to discuss. I don't even like discussing, I just want to get it over with already and he's holding us up."

"Hey, I'll come with."

The door to Nathan's room fell open. "Oh. Nevermind. Hi, Skwisgaar."

"Guh." was the guitarist's only response, as he fell limp into a chair, staring at the floor. "...De fucks you's does-ings in here, you's havin's sex?"

"...Skwisgaar." Immediately Pickles went into mom mode. "You smell like whiskey. 'ave you been drinkin'?"

"Noh."

"You have been. Fer fuck's sakes."

"I amn'ts."

"Nate'n, can I put 'im on yer bed?" Nathan grunted in reply, which Pickles took as a yes, laying the underweight guitarist down on his back. "Now really ain't th' time to be day-drinkin', Skwisgaar. Fuck is the matter wit' you?"

"Leaves me bes."

"Aw jeez. Babe. Nate'n, could you ring up Charles? Tell 'im we've run into a slight inconvenience?"

Nathan grunted once more, pressing some buttons on his DethPhone and going outside his room, as to not accidentally pick up Skwisgaar's groaning over the receiver. 

"I's goin's to sleeps."

"Oh no ya don't. You better tell me what's up with you, and then you need a fuckin' bath."

"...Bluh... Fines." Skwisgaar wiped his runny nose, eyes almost as red as his face. "But you's better nots tells nobodies 'bouts dis."

"Not a word.

"Okay dens. So..."


	23. This should be a one-guitar band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd tried everything.
> 
> This chapter is... pretty explicit, boss.

Early 2000's. Dethklok was working on their first album. Everything was great. And most notably, William Murderface and Magnus Hammersmith were in love. And Skwisgaar was, for the most part, blaming himself.

("Ja, I'm pretty shores dat means he likes yous.")

His fingers tightened.

("Waits, how old ams he?")

His tongue was working. He could do better.

("Just a quickie, Mistor Hammersmit's.")

He could undo what he'd done.

"Shit, take it deeper." Normally Skwisgaar didn't let people touch his hair, but this was an exception. He'd allow it. He'd let Magnus do whatever the fuck he wanted. He made the poor kid lose his innocence, he felt terrible. He shouldn't have said anything. He felt it in the back of his throat, vomiting on flesh, with a tug of his hair he pulled back spewing across his bare body. Sticky sperm coated his eyelashes as the perverse emetophiliac lost control of himself.

"...Ja. Dats goods?"

"Turn around."

He knew where it was going, but he did it, he turned on his hands and knees on the bathroom floor, finger still laced in his hair as Magnus entered him, barely lubed and without a condom. He should've said something. (Was this how him and Murderface did it? Oh god. Poor kid.) He felt like he was tearing, contracting, ripping in half, he'd never done this before and it hurt and he hated it. He heard breathy whispers in his ear. "God, you're so tight." This was good, good, good. (Love me more than Murderface. Leave him alone.)

"Harders."

He would lie.

(For his sake.)

"Fuck, I ain't done anything this good in years. You're a real butt-slut, aren't you."

"Mmh." In reality he'd never done anything like this. Relinquish control? Him? No sir. And this surely, surely, wasn't making him want to try it again. But he had to, he had to, because he was the one who dragged Murderface into this. And he would get him out.

After what felt like hours he felt a hot sensation within him, as Magnus withdrew, still half-hard, but satisfied. "Man. You're wild. But..." He shrugged, pulling his pants back on. "I've got an under 6-foot bassist who can do it better." Skwisgaar allowed the thought to settle. Fuck, he'd tried everything. "Besides. I know you're doing this to drive a wedge between us boys, I ain't stupid. Thanks for a good fuck though. But William's the only one I really want."

And like that, he was gone. Skwisgaar didn't want to get up anymore.


	24. You make me sick to my stomach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath.

"...Wow."

Perhaps it was too detailed. Frankly, Pickles didn't expect anything like that.

"Ja, don't wants to face 'ems. So I lets 'ems die. Kicks 'ems outs. Can'ts works while I gots de guilts." Skwisgaar took a long drink from a flask, which Pickles promptly snatched from his hands. "He don't desorves to bes in de bands wit' someone who convinces him to fucks de old mans."

"Y'didn't really 'convince' him."

"But he listens to everyt'ins I says, if I says Magnus likes 'ims, he goes for its, dey hooks up, dey dates for a year..." He grumbled, wiping his eyes. "...He gets hort, he am all fucks-up for de rest of hims lifes. An' I can'ts do nuthin's. I don't wants to face dat, Pickle. Not Magnus, not Moidaface, not nobodies. I don't wants it to dawns on 'im what I does to 'im." His face was red as he turned away from Pickles. "Don't wants 'im to know I gives a fuck."

"Skwisgaar, c'mere."

"Don't wants to."

"Skwisgaar. C'mere. C'mon."

"No."

"Don't make me come over dere."

"Fucks outta heres."

"Skwisgaar! I'm gonna do it!"

"Leaves me alones, I says too much. Gimme my alcohols!"

"Nnnnnnope!" Pickles dragged Skwisgaar into a tight hug, fingers clutching at the back fabric of his shirt. "C'mon. Just let it all out. Ain't nobody watchin'."

"...I cares abouts 'im."

"Who? Toki?"

"All t'ree of dems."

"Nobody blames you for what happened. You... you did your best, okay? C'mon, kiddo."

"I's gettin's you's shirt wet--"

"Shh. S'alright. C'mon." Despite dwarfing Pickles in size, the drummer was old enough to be Skwisgaar's big brother, and definitely had the personality that brought him from 'band brother' to 'band mother'. Skwisgaar still rejected the maternal obsession, but got roped in nonetheless. "Everyone still likes you. I still like you. I think you have nice hair. And Murderface ain't angry at'cha."

"I calls hims un-talenteds."

"S'okay. I forgive you." After all, how could a mom really hate any one of his children and still call himself a mother? He wiped the tears from Skwisgaar's face, which was wrinkled and he was shaking and whimpering. "C'mon, kid. Lay yer head down, yer drunk."

"Guhh."

"Shh."

The door creaked open. Nathan peeked inside. "Oh, hey Nate'n. Got anythin'?"

"Well, uh, Charles says we don't have much time. Can't Skwisgaar sleep in the DethBus?"

"Dood, we can't go drivin' around in a gigantic, over-decorated bus. It'll be too damn easy to take us out."

"Well, what the fuck to you suggest. We don't own a normal bus."

"Doctor Rockso's dones gots one." Skwisgaar opened one eye for a moment. Pickles proceeded to gently flick his forehead.

"Git back to sleep!... You don't seriously think we should go with that basket case, do ya?"

"He know where de Depths of Humankity is. Could just drives us."

"Yeh, but..."

"Hey Pickles, what was that about 'making sacrifices', huh?" Nathan rose an eyebrow. "May as well do it."

"Uuuugh. Fine. I'll try and get my hands on 'im."


	25. Ain't nobody as good as me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romance, romance, romance?

"Oh god." His lips curled together. "Shit." Magnus rubbed his cheek. "Schlow down."

"Shhh. Babe."

He was lonely and he was stupid. And he knew he hated Magnus, he knew Magnus had wronged him, but now he was apologizing and suddenly he was loved and appreciated by these weirdos he'd never even met. He was loved. He was appreciated. His jaws fell slack, Magnus wedging a thumb beneath his tongue. His body tightened. "My sweet boy. How could anyone ever hate you?" Tears fell from his eyes and he was hungry and tired and warm.

"F'ank yuh."

"I missed you all these years."

He was held. Touch was so foreign, he was starved. He latched on, he wanted more of it. He sobbed and shuddered. It was so powerful that he was frightened. "Aw, you okay? You missed me, babe? You're such a weenie sometimes."

"...I alwaysch want'd to do thisch..." He wiped his face. He'd wanted to do it with TOKI. What the hell was wrong with him, thinking of another man in bed?

"Right... Ah, shit. I should probably get you back to the apartment."

He was tired. After all, he'd drank, eaten, done drugs with, and screwed a whole shitload of people at the Depths. "Here's your underpants. You need a shower?"

"Uhhhh... Issch fine."

"Alright, now babe, between you and me." Magnus held his shoulders as he shakily slipped his boxers back on, eyelids awkwardly blinking open and shut. "Don't tell your roommates any of what goes down in here. Or else I'll get in trouble. And if I get in trouble--" He could hear the flick of Magnus' switchblade. "--so do you."

"...Underschtood."

"Good. I love you, William."

He felt small. And protected. For the first time in years.

(As long as he didn't make a single wrong turn)


	26. We are running out of time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are happening? Holy shit.

"The Doomstar has risen. And now it is time for our departure."

Ishnifus sure said a lot of stuff that Nathan didn't get. But he wasn't really listening, as he was too busy trying to power through the painfully awful smell within Dr. Rockso's bus. Sitting beside him was their producer, Dick Knubbler. He really didn't even need to come along in the first place, and yet, he did.

"Hey, Santa."

"My name is Ishnifus Meaddle."

"You ever done coke, babe?"

"I do!"

"We know, Rockso."

Nathan shrunk down into his chair, sincerely wishing he was asleep. Dammit, Skwisgaar got to sleep, why didn't he get to? ("At least pretend yer up for this, Nate'n.") The Depths of Humanity was one long-ass drive away from Mordhaus and he was sick of being here.

"...What was Magnus like?"

Edgar Jomfru had parked himself in the middle of the bus, looking bored out of his mind.

"What? Why? I dunno, he stabbed me once."

"Just curious." Edgar paused. "...The Depths is full of bilge-scum, or so I hear."

"Yeah, Murderface fits right in." Nathan scoffed, to which Edgar responded to by smacking him (softly) across the face.

"Don't even joke about that."

"Alright, alright... jeez. You're touchy."

"I had a brother once."

"Back on this again, I see."

"Don't speak to me like that."

"You don't speak to ME like that."

"Fish-oiled mongrel."

"Uh... Dumbass."

"You guys." Pickles gave Nathan a look, stroking Skwisgaar's hair. "Don't argue on th' bus."

"He called me a fishy Mongol."

"Nate'n, it ain't a crime to like, give a shit about people."

"Where's this coming from?!"

"Our two friends and producer are bein' held hostage, you can't just act like it ain't botherin' you." Pickles cocked a brow. "You've been all indifferent 'n shit the whole time. And it's 'cause of our emotional negligence that Toki left, so now ain't the time."

"Since when were you a psychologist?"

"I've had to act like yer fuck'n mom for ten years plus. I know you well."

Nathan crossed his arms tightly, flopping against the back of his chair. Dick was taking a long swig of liquor when Nathan motioned towards him.

"You want someone who gives a fuck about Murderface, talk to him, not me."

It wasn't metal to give a fuck.


End file.
